Act Of Narcissism
by GaleSynch
Summary: AU: Fem!Carter. Male!Sadie. Falling in love with your own host definitely count as an act of narcissism. The reason Horus chose Carla Kane as his host wasn't because she was strong or anything, just that, he wanted to be close to her and make sure she's okay. There's nothing wrong with that, right? Horus/Carter. Genderbent! Sanubis.


**Disclaimer:** I don't own anything.

**Warnings:** Gender-bended characters. Violence. Language.

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**Act Of Narcissism.**

**Prologue.**

Carla Kane shifted unhappily in her seat behind the cab.

Beside her, Samuel—simply called Sam—Kane, her annoying younger brother shifted too. She was pretty sure he could sense the unease and tension in the air. He glanced back, prompting Carla to sneak a peek too.

Her throat was completely dry. "Sam, did you see...?"

"I know." Her brother had a British accent he was proud off, constantly flaunted it in her face that he got a cool accent. Hmph. He just got it because he spent his life in school, being a normal teen while she was traveling around the world—not that she wanted his life or anything.

"Dad, where are we going exactly?" Only Sam would use such a tone to speak to their father.

Carla frowned in disapproval at his attitude.

"We're going to see the Rosetta Stone," Their dad mumbled, slightly distracted—only Carla knew that look meant that he was thinking about their mother. "And, set things right again."

Sam and Carla exchanged puzzled looks. "Huh?" Their father did not elaborate, leaving his children to glare at him in frustration (Sam) and to sigh in resignation (Carla).

Sam glared out the window, looking at his own vague reflection as the scenery of London zoomed past them. He didn't even got the chance to enjoy the scenery. His dad only got to visit him twice a year and usually, they ate out or go to the movies, now, he wanted to bring Sam to a museum and see all those boring talks?

Unacceptable. The only kid who'd be enjoying a trip to some museum was his nerdy older sister.

He glanced at her, out of the corner of his eyes and saw her looking out her own window. There was a large gap between the siblings—that was only the physical distance, metaphorically speaking, Sam figured there was a chasm of a gap between them.

No one would've guessed they were siblings.

He had caramel-colored hair with bright highlights in them, pale skin and beautiful (if did say so himself) blue eyes. His sister on the other hand, had dark hair, brown eyes and light mocha skin, a mixture of their parents's skin tone. Still, she looked a lot like Dad.

He didn't mind the physical difference. It was nice to always have the option of denying relations to the nerdy girl beside him. But what he hated was the doubt on people's face when they revealed to be siblings.

Was it so surprising they were related?

Sam scowled, making a face at the curator—apparently, it was a huge surprise. He glanced at his older sister and father, noting that they didn't even notice the slight pause and doubt in the curator's eyes. Either they didn't care or they were too absorbed in...

Sam blinked. "Dad," he said. "What's with the chains?"

"Okay, kids," He turned to face them, handing Sam the chains—which pretty much meant that it was something against the law. His sister was such a goody-two-shoes in contrast to his bad boy image, she'd never go against the law and their father knew this—only Sam dared to commit a crime. "I have something important for you two to do. Follow the curator and lock him in, chain his door. Then wait there, no matter what, don't come back here."

As expected, Carla's jaw dropped, protests at the tip of her tongue.

Sam grinned—maybe this trip wouldn't be totally boring and a waste of time after all. "Awesome!"

Carla shot him an irritated look. "No, it isn't." Sam ignored her, ready to leave her here and do as he was told, but their dad shot him a pleading look—he didn't want Carla with him while he go on about his business. Sam decided to do his father a favor by grabbing his sister and pulling her along.

He may be twelve and she was fourteen, but seriously, there were only sixteen months of difference between their age—not completely two years and Sam relished it. Sam towered over his sister with his 5'4 while she was a measly 5'2. They both knew who inherited the tall genes from their dad (their mom was on the short side).

"This is so wrong," Carla muttered as Sam pushed the curator in just as he walked out. She didn't waste any time turning the lock, however and the siblings hurriedly wrapped the chains around the lock. "Our handprints will be all over it. We won't be able to hide. The police will—"

Sam snorted loudly. "Please," he scoffed, turning on his heel and starting down the hall, ignoring his sister's calls and the curator's muffled yells.

"Where are you going?" Carla demanded once she caught up to him.

Sam eyed her like she was stupid—which was pretty ironic since they both knew she was smarter. "Back to Dad, duh."

"But Dad said—"

"Shut up, Daddy's girl," sneered Sam. "You're such a Rule-stickler it makes me want to puke." Carla glared at him, punching him in arm—which hurts, she had a mean punch. Sam figured it was because she's a basketball player. "Aren't you a single bit curious as to what he's up to? It's not everyday Dad's doing something illegal."

Something flashed in Carla's eyes but she remained silent. Sam didn't know much about his Dad's travels, he didn't really like going into boring details, but for all he knew, his Dad might be up to something and with Carla's _I respect people's privacy_ policy and never pried, they wouldn't even know.

If they missed out on something fun, it was totally Carla's fault.

Sam came to an abrupt halt when he saw the strange scene before him. "What...? Dad!" he called loudly when he saw his father holding a staff and wand and chanting like a madman. "I didn't know he was an Oracle!"

Carla looked as surprised as he felt. "Oracle?" she echoed, jaw dropping. Her eyes widened when hot, red sand exploded from the Rosetta Stone, blasting them off their feet.

Sam's vision tunneled as his head connected with solid concrete.

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_Free._

Horus burst forth from his prison, a grin forming on his lips as he stepped into the mortal world for the first time. He could feel his former siblings bursting out after him and—his lips curled—_Set_.

He wondered which magician was so foolish and brave to attempt such—even though he only meant to free Osiris.

"Dad!"

Children's voices. Horus's vision adjusted; there, laying among a pile of rubble of fallen pillars were two teens. A semi-conscious boy with golden hair and sky-like eyes, and beside him—Horus's breath caught—a girl. Her hair was barely held in a ponytail, there was a cut running down her eyebrow and her face was covered in dust. In short, she looked beautiful.

Who was she?

He could feel power emanating from both children—blood of the pharaohs. And, not just one pharaoh, but two combined bloodline—that was like, _divine_.

_I got to do something_, she was thinking, panic and fear and worry clouding her mind. Ah, so the magician was her father. Horus wondered what the magician was doing, why he summoned the gods—a dangerous act—with his children around. _Dad can't distract that Red guy forever. I... need power, anything to help Dad—_

She _wanted_ power.

And who else than Horus better suited for that job?

Without thinking of the consequences, he sunk into her body, instantly combining their _ba_ in the Duat. She didn't suspect anything.

Horus could hear his mother, Isis's grumbles. _I wanted the girl as my host._

_Try the boy_, suggested Horus. _This girl is mine._

With a huff, his mother did as he suggested, sinking into the boy's body. His semi-conscious state made things harder, but Isis was a witch in godly terms, his _ba_ had no chance of resisting as she inhabited his body.

The boy—_Sam Kane_, his mother said—spat dust out of his mouth, rubbing the small bump forming in his head. He blinked his blue eyes, a little distracting for Horus who saw through the Duat and see few colors mashing.

Horus watched the things unfolding through his host's mind with half a mind; his father, Osiris had been taken into a tomb again. Set was free and hostless—Nephthys had found a host rather quickly. They were all set for the recurring war again; Horus just knew Set was up to something.

He glared at the spot where Set had combusted into a pillar of red sands.

As angry as he was at his uncle, he couldn't be more pissed off when some fat lard stalked up to his host and arrested her—more like, manhandled the girl and her brother.

He simmered angrily, unable to do much as he was still getting use to his body—he had to admit, this was his first time inhabiting a female body.

He sighed. He needed some serious adjusting.

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**Question: **What are your thoughts on this?

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